I dropped my head, trying to ignore all the jubilation, as though I was exhausted and disgusted with myself. Not too much of a stretch right now.

Yeah, sometimes, doing the right thing was the most painful feeling in the entire world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The members of the Draconi Family stampeded down the bleachers and stormed onto the field, shoving everyone aside, including me. Blake hoisted Deah up onto his shoulder. A Draconi guard stepped up on Deah’s other side, and he and Blake carried her around and around. All of the Draconis were clapping, cheering, and yelling—except for Deah.

She kept glancing back over her shoulder at me, her eyes dark and troubled. She knew I’d let her win, but she didn’t know why. Well, I wasn’t about to tell her.

But I’d made my choice, and the fight was over. There was no taking it back, so I trudged over to the fence at the edge of the grass. Devon and Felix were already waiting for me, their faces filled with sympathy that I didn’t want to see and especially didn’t want to feel right now.

“Um, good match, Lila,” Felix said, wincing, obviously torn between consoling me and being happy that Deah had won. “You’ll get her next year.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Next year.”

Devon frowned, suspicion flaring in his eyes. He realized that I’d thrown the fight, but he didn’t ask me about it. Maybe he knew I didn’t want to talk about it right now. That I never, ever wanted to talk about it. That I just wanted to go back to the mansion, hole up in my room, and not come out for the rest of the summer. Maybe by then all the talk about the stupid tournament would finally be over. Yeah, right. It would never be over. Blake and the rest of the Draconis would gleefully rub my defeat in my face for as long as I stayed in Cloudburst Falls.

The Sinclair guards climbed down from the bleachers and headed over to us. I plastered a smile on my face and gritted my teeth through everyone’s congratulations and condolences. The guards quickly drifted away, and Claudia, Mo, Reginald, Angelo, and Oscar came down from the Family box and gathered around me. Reginald and Angelo wore sympathetic expressions, but Mo and especially Claudia seemed much more thoughtful. Oscar was absolutely crestfallen, barely twitching his wings enough to hover in the air beside me.

I turned to Mo. “Sorry I didn’t win. I hope I didn’t cost you too much money.”

He grinned and slung his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Easy come, easy go.” His black eyes narrowed. “Besides, you did your best, right? That’s all anyone can ask of you.”

“My best. Right.”

Mo stared at me, and I realized that he knew I’d thrown the match as well. But apparently he decided not to call me on it in front of the others.

“Besides,” he continued. “I might have . . . hedged a few of my bets, so to speak, just in case things didn’t go the way I wanted them to. If you can’t win, you might as well break even, right?”

I frowned. Something about his words bothered me, although I couldn’t say exactly what it was. Something about hedging your bets and trying to stack the odds in your favor, although I supposed that everyone in the tournament had tried to do that as much as they could over the past few days—even if Devon had told me that there was no way to cheat in the one-on-one matches.

I frowned. Or was there a way to cheat? Maybe all you needed was—

“You did well, Lila,” Claudia said, interrupting my train of thought. “I’m proud of you, regardless of the outcome of the match, and so is everyone else.”

Sincerity flashed in her eyes, but her mouth was set in a hard line, telling me that she, too, realized I’d thrown the fight. I was sure she wanted to know why, although she was polite enough not to demand an answer in front of everyone.

But my friends’ suspicions were nothing compared to having to watch Deah bask in the winner’s glory.

She was still riding shoulders, still the center of everyone’s attention. Finally, though, the officials stepped forward again and broke up the crowd as best as they could. A few seconds later, a low, rolling drumbeat sounded.

“Now what?” I muttered.

Devon gave me a sympathetic look. “Now, the officials will present the winner’s trophy . . . and the one for the runner-up.”

I groaned. “Please don’t tell me that I have to go back out there.”

He winced. “Sorry, Lila.”

Sure enough, one of the officials came over, gesturing for me to go back out into the middle of the stadium, where a small stage had been erected inside the stone ring. By the time I reached the stage, Deah was already standing on it, and I had no choice but to go over, climb the steps, and stand right next to her.

The head official started talking about what an honor it was to oversee the tournament every year, how fiercely all the competitors had fought, and blah, blah, blah, blah. The only thing that mattered right now was the fact that I’d lost. But I plastered a tight smile on my face, raised my hand, and waved to the crowd when I was supposed to. Deah did the same thing, smiling just like I was, although she kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Why did you let me win?” she muttered during a particularly loud round of applause. “What possible reason could you have had for doing that?”

“What does it matter?” I muttered back. “You won. So shut up, and be happy about it.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t want to win like that. I wanted to earn it for myself. I don’t need your charity or especially your damn pity.”

I opened my mouth to snark back that with her ungrateful attitude, she didn’t have to worry because she wouldn’t be getting either one of those things ever again. But the official stepped forward and presented me with a small silver cup before I could get the words out.

I ground my teeth together, forced myself to smile again, and held the cup up over my head as though I were absolutely thrilled with second place. No bloody way.

After the polite applause had faded away, I lowered the cup and tap-tap-tapped my fingernail against the side of it. Solid sterling silver and worth a pretty penny. Well, at least I’d gotten something out of letting Deah win. Maybe I’d let Mo hock my trophy, such as it was, at the Razzle Dazzle. I certainly didn’t want to keep it and be reminded of how I’d lost.